


all this anger, all this shame

by crookedspoon



Series: Donation Fics [6]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Ass to Mouth, Blow Jobs, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, POV Roy Harper, Rape/Non-con Elements, Verbal Humiliation, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26937817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: "Oh," he says with an easy laugh and not a shred of embarrassment about his suggestion. As if they were both fully clothed in the kitchen – as if he asked Roy if he takes ten cubes of sugar in his coffee, and not if he wants to fuck him again. "Sorry. I thought you were Wally."
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Roy Harper
Series: Donation Fics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598773
Comments: 14
Kudos: 62
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	all this anger, all this shame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [withthekeyisking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthekeyisking/gifts).



> Thank you so much, Q, for donating to a good cause and for your endless patience while I kept struggling and struggling with writer's block. That meant a lot.
> 
> The idea itself has been graciously provided by Quil, although some background things grew out of an AU in which Dick is hypersexual and doesn't quite get boundaries. In the end this characterisation didn't work without the context, so I tried to make it more of a standalone, but some of it is still there.
> 
> Kinktober 2020 - Day 11: Watersports | ~~Temperature play | Stockings~~

Not for the first time, Roy considers leaving. Considers turning on his heel and taking a shower in his own rooms instead of the communal space, maybe even quitting the Tower – and with it, this Team experience – altogether. (They're big on the capital letters here, as if those conferred any type of group cohesion. Spoiler: it doesn't.)

Roy doesn't leave, despite the warning signs going off like fireworks in his head.

He crumples his gloves, drops them onto the bench, and rips off his domino. The skin around his eyes feels cold, tender, naked. More so than the rest of him. His blood is running hot, flushing his cheeks, stoking the embers burning low in his gut. 

"Forgot something?" Dick's singsong voice reverberates off the walls as Roy steps inside the showers. "Seconds, maybe?"

Roy tries to keep his stare level, but there's no way he can ignore Dick's backside, the way he's wiggling it. Dick follows up with a smile that is sultry enough to melt bones; his eyelids are hooded, his lashes clumped together and curving like thorns. His smile freezes when he meets Roy's stare over his shoulder.

"Oh," he says with an easy laugh and not a shred of embarrassment about his suggestion. As if they were both fully clothed in the kitchen – as if he asked Roy if he takes ten cubes of sugar in his coffee, and not if he wants to fuck him again. "Sorry. I thought you were Wally."

Roy takes in the light bruises peppering Dick's skin, some from their mission earlier, some in the shape of Wally's grasping fingers. There are bite marks along the ridge of his shoulders, too. None of which was there earlier when they got into their gear.

He could have taken a page from Dick's book and laughed it off, too, maybe with a stab at his and Wally's hair colour, saying it's an easy mistake to make. Or he could have ignored the comment altogether and taken a shower without sparing Dick another glance. From what he gathers, Dick is used to silences that could outwait stones.

He could have – if Dick had not been so nonchalant about it. As if he had not a care in the world, not even about who knew about him and Wally. As if he didn't have a shred of shame in his body. Looking at him, there's a looseness evident in his limbs that speaks of an itch that was scratched to satisfaction and that Dick doesn't even bother to hide.

Perhaps that's what pisses Roy off the most. That Dick all but advertises.

If it were just Wally, Roy wouldn't give a rat's ass. Dick can fuck whomever he chooses. It's none of Roy's business. But it's not just Wally. That's the problem. It's like Dick has to get his dirty mitts on everybody and good luck to the rest of the population to find anyone who's not involved with him.

(He tries not to think about last night when he saw those mitts sliding a uniform made out of night sky. How crushed he'd been. How difficult it had been to walk away nobly and not fall into old habits again – habits that resurface every time he _hurts._

In a way, it might have been naive of him to harbor a crush on Donna. But he'd thought his charm and the new guy factor would win her over. And perhaps it could have, if not for Dick. It's no surprise that Donna would gravitate toward Dick, who is smart and capable and built like everyone's wet dream. Roy could have let this go and wished them all the best. And he did. 

Until he saw Dick make out with Wally before dragging him into the showers. His anger spikes if his thoughts so much as draw near the memory.)

Roy is on Dick in two strides, and before Dick has the chance to register the intent that must radiate from Roy's glower, Roy slams him face-first against the wall. 

"So, what?" he demands, hot water sliding down his chest. "I'm not good enough?"

Dick's shoulders bunch as he stems his palms against the slippery tiles, but Roy is stronger. Dick could fight him, of course. Kick his feet from under him and use their slippery surroundings to his advantage. But he doesn't.

Instead, he just voices his bewilderment. "Wh-what?"

Probably doesn't view Roy as hostile enough. He'll show him hostile.

"You'll fuck anyone," he continues, pressing Dick harder into the wall, as if he wanted to crush Dick's skull against it. 

He's tempted, but it would not endear him to any of them. He knows they don't trust him yet, even though they pretend they do. _We're a team, Roy,_ they say. _We have each other's backs._

"Garth, Donna, Wally... why not me?"

Dick's tongue flicks out to wet his lips and he exhales a shuddering breath.

"If that's what you want," he says and Roy can't tell if there's eagerness in his voice or if it's something else. 

"You're not even fighting it." A frown knits Roy's eyebrows. Disgust twists up his insides. "Are you so desperate to have a cock shoved up your ass that you don't care whose it is?"

Dick is absolutely still, save for the eyes – flickering back over his shoulder to find Roy's gaze implacable, then away and down – as though waiting for Roy's gambit. Well, Roy is more than happy to oblige. He slips his fingers into Dick's well-used hole, half-expecting Dick to at least flinch away, if not try to ram his elbow into Roy's gut.

Dick does neither, just gasps out another breath and bites his glossy lower lip. In fact, he wiggles his ass back just so, inviting Roy's fingers deeper.

"Fuck, you're pathetic," Roy sneers. "You really want it. Guess that means you won't mind if I do _this."_

Without bothering to wait for a reaction, he replaces his fingers with his cock. It's a bit of a surprise to find himself as hard as he is, but then again, who wouldn't pop a boner when they had a pretty little slut like Dick so naked and willing in front of them?

What's not a surprise is that Dick moans and goes lax like a kitten. 

"Look at you," Roy growls and grabs a fistful of Dick's hair. "How filthy you are. I didn't even have to push. My cock went right into that disgustingly wet hole of yours."

Dick's eyes flicker again, not quite settling on Roy's. It's as though he's too bashful to look straight at him, but Roy doesn't buy this bullshit act of being shy or reluctant. If Dick didn't want this, he'd have fought him off already.

And that's the kind of realization that sets something in Roy alight, like gasoline. It's not anger, exactly, nor is it lust, yet a passion of some kind. It's the sweet rush of intoxication, of getting away with something you were sure to be admonished for. Yet he doesn't even get his fingers slapped. Roy burns with it, and he wants to make sure that Dick is the one who _gets_ burned.

He snaps his hips forward and back, barely giving either of them the time to adjust to what is happening. Dick's fingers dig into the tiles and he pushes out strained little breaths, but otherwise he lets himself be used, with nary an indication that he's waiting for the right moment to kick Roy's ass for this.

Roy doesn't trust this complacency. He wants to see Dick shatter, to fight back, to have some fucking self-respect. How can he accept someone as leader who rolls over for the nearest cock? Even if it's his own, and he likes to see Dick taking it.

He wrenches Dick's head back by his hair until his back arches, shoves his face into the path of the spray just to see him snort and splutter. It's almost a relief to see Dick struggle with some sort of animation, if only long enough to turn his head to the side so he could breathe. Dick's nose is pressed against the crook of Roy's neck, his breath puffing in staccato bursts against the skin. If Roy hadn't forced this, he could even think of it as intimate.

But he's not letting that tiny voice in the back of his mind get the better of him. He's been squashing it for years, no need to let it surface now.

He shuts off the water – and almost turns it back on. Without the steady pattering to fill the room, Dick's hitched moans and the sound of flesh hitting flesh are now becoming painfully distinct. Anyone walking into the locker room outside would know in a second what's going on in the showers. It's almost enough to make Roy abandon the whole endeavor entirely. Almost. Another part of him wants to show the rest of the team what a worthless slut Dick really is.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asks somewhat unnecessarily. His hand winds around Dick's windpipe so that he wouldn't be able to speak even if he wanted to.

Dick's glassy eyes tell him all he needs to know.

"Thought as much," Roy continues, using Dick's body as brutally as he can. It doesn't seem to matter to Dick if his hips are getting crushed against the wall, as long as there's a cock impaling him. "Is this why they like you? Because you're nothing but a cum dumpster to them?"

Dick sucks in a breath, tries to shake his head, but in the end, he can't do anything but tremble on Roy's cock.

"Fuck, you're disgusting."

He's getting bored by Dick's passive acceptance. He would have expected Dick to clock him one, and ages ago, for using this kind of language on him. But apparently he's even more of a freak than Roy would have given him credit for.

With his lips curled into a sneer, he shoves Dick off, makes him fall to his knees on the naked tiles. Dick whines in protest, though Roy can't say if it's because of the treatment or because he misses being stuffed full of cock.

"You're one hell of a greedy slut."

Roy grabs Dick's face and spits on it. Dick blinks, as if taken aback, but before he can break out of his stupor, Roy shoves his cock into his mouth. It takes no more than that for Dick to be enthralled again, because he goes down on Roy immediately and with relish. Roy curses in every language known to him; he's never been blown like Dick blows him now.

"If you're giving head like this all the time, I can see now why you're the team leader."

It's almost enough to make Roy want to go easy on him, but he's come this far and he's not going to back down now. He tells himself not to get lost in the gorgeous feeling of Dick's soft, wet mouth on him. Because it's definitely the kind of thing that would make pious men renounce their religion if only Dick would continue doing what he's doing.

Perhaps too bad that Roy is not a pious man. He's never believed in the gods other people have wanted him to believe in. Not for a long time. Not when they've abandoned him so utterly that he saw no pinpricks of light relieving the blackness of his darkest days. 

A wet, gurgling sound snaps Roy back to the present. Dick's face is flush with Roy's pelvis and his shoulders are hunching convulsively, as though he's trying hard not to choke on Roy's cock. Easing the pressure on the back of his head, Roy combs his fingers through Dick's hair and scratches the nape of his neck. It's ridiculous but it's enough to get Dick to settle. Tears are streaming freely down his face and he's still trembling, but his throat has stopped convulsing.

"Looks like you'd rather go out choking on someone's cock than during a fight," Roy says and yanks Dick off by his hair. "I don't want that on my hands. You're not _that_ good."

Dick sucks in air, coughing, ropes of spit connecting his ruined face to the cock he's gripping like a lifeline. He could have backed off and run, but perhaps he prefers cock to any shred of dignity he might have been able to preserve.

"I can't believe I never noticed what a stupid whore you are. And so filthy, too. Not even a shower can help how gross you are."

Dick's eyes flitter away and his mouth presses together as though he wanted to contradict Roy but wasn't sure it mattered.

"Go on," Roy says as he rubs his cock against Dick's face. "Show me what you can do."

And Dick looks up at him then, eyes so full of fervor it nearly shocks Roy's system, and sweeps his wet hair from his forehead before leaning forward to take Roy back into his mouth. Dick moans as he sucks him deeper and that's when the moment splits itself apart. It's no longer Dick on his knees in front of him, giving head like there's nothing he loves better, but himself – several years younger, with matted hair and hollow cheeks, but himself nonetheless. 

The memory hits with a sickening jolt. He thought he'd had it buried deep. That as long as he kept clean, he would no longer have to face what he'd done for just another fix. What he'd let them do... 

He hears the slap before he feels it stinging in his palm. Dick frowns at him, less hurt than confused, and not for the first time Roy wishes Dick would stand up for himself.

"You whore," Roy bellows as he backhands Dick. "You disgusting piece of shit."

With a well-placed kick to Dick's sternum, Roy slams his back against the wall. Dick's breath escapes his lungs in a single _oof._ Roy considers leaving his foot there, making Dick gasp for breath after breath, until he finally begs Roy to stop. But then he catches sight of Dick's erection jutting out from between his splayed thighs. It's flushed a deep pink and thoroughly neglected. 

"That looks painful," Roy says, but it earns him nothing more than a bleary, uncomprehending gaze. Roy frowns. He didn't hit Dick's head that hard. "Let me help you with that."

Dick cries out the moment Roy's foot comes down on his erection and it's the first honest reaction that Roy got from him. 

"That's better."

It shouldn't come as a surprise – although for some reason it does – when Dick lifts his hips to rub himself against Roy's foot.

"Gross," Roy spits. "You really have no shame, do you?"

Although Dick scrunches his eyes shut, he gives no indication of stopping to rub himself against Roy anytime soon. 

"Who trained you? You're like a dog. It's pathetic."

Since Roy doesn't have the slightest bit of inclination to wait for Dick to hump himself to completion, he hooks his foot around Dick's neck and smashes his face into the floor. That at least forces a satisfying grunt from Dick.

Without bothering to lift his foot from Dick's face, he hauls up his ass and positions it so that Dick is nearly folded in half. On a normal day, Roy might have spared more than half a thought on whether or not Dick is comfortable, but going by the way Dick moans when Roy penetrates him again, he needn't have expended even that much. Dick is still not turned off by Roy's treatment of him. 

Roy is past caring. He bears down into Dick like a jackhammer, using his body to get off in the quickest way he knows how – without having to look at his face, that is. His release punches through him soon enough, and as he drains his balls into Dick's welcoming hole, some of his black mood drains with it. He no longer feels quite so antagonistic, but not enough to apologize or anything. There are still underlying issues to resolve and Roy is not in the mood to resolve them now.

A sound of protest comes from Dick's lips as Roy pulls out – the first since they started. It's an odd sound, not one Roy would have expected at this juncture. After all, he's given Dick plenty of reason to protest before.

"Don't be a greedy bitch," Roy says, ticked off again, but obligingly pushes his cock back into Dick. 

And Dick relaxes once more, as if all he needed for serene happiness was his hole plugged up. At least that would explain why he goes through his team members faster than he goes through his underwear.

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm not doing this for you. You weren't even that good."

With that last insult out of the way, Roy goes about doing something the old men showed him: he relieves himself inside Dick's asshole. Sort of as compensation for unearthing those memories in the first place.

Dick goes deathly still as Roy's piss fills him up until it slides down the backs of his thighs. Roy doesn't know what possesses him when he picks up Dick by his hair just to piss in his face and down his front, but he doesn't question it. It feels good. It feels like a victory.

It's not until he sees the stunned expression on Dick's face that he notices it mirrors the queer feeling inside himself. That is, until Dick's expression warps into one of desperation and he begins quivering all over. Only when Dick's release spatters across his chest in quick, but powerful bursts, does Roy realize what just happened. That Dick came from being pissed on.

"Gross," is all he manages to say, but it lacks his earlier bite.

Wide-eyed and panting, Dick slumps against cold tiles of the showers. His gaze finds Roy's equally confused. They stare at each other as they catch their breath, until Roy curses under his breath and turns the shower on again. The rush of water is a welcome break to the silence that was settling between them.

\---

As their combined bodily fluids swirl down the drain, so too does Roy's anger drain away. Exhaustion takes its place. Exhaustion and the old familiar shame that never washes off. His shoulders sag. Once again, he's let his emotions get the better of him and behaved in a way he never wanted to behave. This is not who he is, who he wants to be, and he shouldn't let the past interfere with that, or so he reminds himself. Not that it helps.

The need to apologize niggles at him but he squashes it. What good are words in a situation such as this? All they would do is make matters worse between them.

Roy shuts off the water again.

"Think you're clean enough?" he asks and offers Dick his hand.

Dick stares at it and blinks. Then he reaches up to take it. "It'll have to do," he murmurs once Roy has pulled him to his feet.

Dick follows Roy into the locker room like in a trance. Roy throws him a towel that he catches automatically and drapes across his shoulders. Without bothering to dry himself off, he collapses onto one of the wooden benches. And flinches as he lands.

Roy does towel himself off, but can't bring himself to put on his clothes yet. Instead, he sits down next to Dick and, without a word, offers him a sports drink. Dick accepts equally as wordless and downs some of the contents.

They spend a few more moments sitting next to each other in silence. Roy tries not to think about what he just did. Can't bring himself to. Not yet.

"So..." 

"Yup."

Another silence ensues. Dick eventually breaks it with a tentative laugh. It's weak, but it's something. Enough to dispel some of the awkwardness between them at least.

"That was..." Dick begins and licks his lips. Absently, he's rubbing the cheek Roy slapped. His face is still blotchy from crying. "That was hot."

Roy almost swallows his tongue. Hot? What is that guy talking about? Roy very nearly raped him and the only reason he thinks of it as _very nearly_ is because Dick seemed to be into it. 

"Was it?" 

"No one's ever done that to me before. I didn't know..."

He looks up at the ceiling wonderingly, but doesn't elaborate what exactly it is that he didn't know. Roy doesn't press him on it. His head is still spinning from the revelation that Dick actually got off on the way Roy treated him.

"So..." he finally musters up the courage to ask. "Does that mean we're good?"

Dick blinks at him and the flush staining his cheeks deepens. "Of course we are."

Roy just nods, not quite comprehending how Dick could be so forgiving, but also not about to argue. He throws on a pair of shorts and a sleeveless hoodie just for something to do. He feels restless and in need of something to settle his nerves.

"Still," he says. "I'm sorry. For what it's worth."

"Don't be." Dick shakes his head and frowns. "I... liked it."

Roy is painfully aware that his apology counts for nothing, but at the same time he wants Dick to acknowledge that Roy has something to apologize for. The fact that he may have liked it doesn't absolve Roy of what he did.

Not that he's too keen on airing that particular sentiment right now. If Dick offers him the chance to consider the slate clear between them, he ought to take it. He feels like a coward for doing so, but he reminds himself that it's Dick's choice. What good does it do him if Roy forces his feelings of guilt on him too, just because he thinks he's getting off too lightly? If Roy needs to atone for something, he can do so in private, without roping Dick into it.

So instead of saying anything that might escalate into an argument, he packs up his stuff with his mouth shut. His eyes still stray toward Dick, stealing quick glances from the periphery. With his arms wrapped around one knee and his teeth worrying his lower lip, Dick appears to be lost in thought.

"Sure you're okay?" Roy asks.

Dick's head snaps up. "Huh? Oh yeah. I was just thinking... no, it doesn't matter."

"What?"

"I'll tell you some other time," he says with the ghost of an impish smile. "But first I need like ten hours of sleep."

Roy nods. He can feel the tug of it, too, calling his body to rest. There's also the tug of something else, something deeper and more urgent, something that never quite leaves him – something that would keep him up the rest of the night if he did not heed the call, but that would help him forget about all that has happened if he did. He squeezes his eyes shut and wills his hands to stop trembling. It never gets any easier.

"Are _you_ okay?" Dick asks, standing up. He's naked and soggy, with bruises marring his cheeks – bruises that Roy put there. By all accounts, he should be the one to receive sympathy, not to offer it.

"I'm fine," he says, although it comes out strained. "Just tired."

Clearing his throat, he shoulders his duffel bag and turns to leave.

"Roy?" Dick stops him one last time. "Good job in the field today. You're proving to be a good fit for the team."

"Roger that, leader," Roy waves a salute over his shoulders, not daring to let Dick see his face.

He hasn't earned those words. No matter how well he worked together with the others in the field, he'd undone all of that progress the moment he shoved Dick's face against the shower wall. So much for a good fit. If the others knew what he'd done, they'd kick him out of the Teen Titans bodily and that would be the kindest thing they'd do.

He hurries to his room before anyone else sees him. Wally is known to wander the Tower for midnight snacks. The only person he'd want to run into even less is Donna.

The moment the lock turns behind him, he feels that tug again, stronger than before, like a noose around his neck. With a sudden chill, he realizes that he won't be able to rest tonight until he's satisfied that itch. Too many memories have been stirred for him to deal with on his own. He rubs his arms, over the fading scars. If he can't undo what he's done, he wants to forget. At least for a little while.

**Author's Note:**

> Title adapted from "thē kĭñg" by Enter Shikari.


End file.
